


It's a common thing, to be out of line, but it's getting old, by the fifteenth time

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Supernatural Season 14 Codas [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Death, Episode: s14e17 Game Night, Episode: s14e18 Absence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, References to Depression, Speculation, The Empty (Supernatural), life - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 10:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: “You’re dead to me,” Dean’s voice said, even hours afterwards, when Castiel had flown to a random town and checked into a random motel room.“You’re dead to me,” Dean’s voice echoed, as Castiel sat on the uncomfortable mattress, tucking his legs underneath one another.





	It's a common thing, to be out of line, but it's getting old, by the fifteenth time

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song “You’re Not Stubborn” by Two Door Cinema Club.

I. Death

 

The words were something Castiel immediately took to heart.

“You’re dead to me,” Dean’s voice said, even hours afterwards, when Castiel had flown to a random town and checked into a random motel room.

“You’re dead to me,” Dean’s voice echoed, as Castiel sat on the uncomfortable mattress, tucking his legs underneath one another. 

“You’re dead to me,” Dean had said. “You’re dead to me.”

Castiel took what little was left of his heart and used an inkling of his grace to leave them all behind.

He knew it may have been something Dean said in the heat of the moment. They were angry. All of them were angry at him.

But wouldn’t he always mess up? Wouldn’t he always bite off more than he could chew? Wouldn’t he always keep secrets and his good intentions would be twisted?

Nothing he did was ever right. He would never learn.

It was who Castiel was. He could not change, no matter how hard he tried. 

He would never change, not even for Dean, not for Sam, not for Mary, not for Jack, and certainly not for the angels who abused him in the first place.

Castiel was a failure on all counts. He thought he could care for Jack, but he couldn’t. His descent into madness was merely prolonged, and could not be avoided.

Castiel took on an impossible task, and he failed the one thing he could not fail at. Everyone would pay for his error, now.

He thought of the promise the Big Empty made him. He recounted every single word, since he committed them to memory.

Castiel would never be happy again. No matter what, he would not get what he wanted.

It’s not like Dean would even want him back. And certainly not in the capacity Castiel had always craved for, hoped for, dreamed about in vain.

Castiel did this to himself. He made a deal, and he lost, and he withheld information, and he was paying for it all.

“You’re dead to me,” Dean had said to him. 

It was a funny choice of words, honestly. It was like he knew about the deal, but Castiel didn’t tell anyone but Jack. 

If Castiel was dead to Dean, what was the point of remaining on Earth?

All the usual answers felt hollow to Castiel. None of them quite made him feel better. 

In the end, he was always too emotional. His emotions would always win out over his logic.

Castiel stood numbly from the motel mattress, pulling out a drawer. A notepad and pen was present next to a copy of the Bible. 

He turned the Bible over, so that the front cover was smothered by the bottom of the drawer. He took out the notepad and pushed the drawer closed. He clicked on the ballpoint pen and started to write.

He almost wanted to laugh. He never thought he would have to leave a note in this situation.

But the Winchesters deserved to know.

Castiel, after scrawling a few sentences, clicked off the pen. He unlocked his smartphone and turned on the GPS tracker. 

Even if it took them a long time, the motel would always keep the note and cell phone.

Perhaps he would be treated as a missing person.

The thought almost made Castiel smile at the irony.

Castiel left the notepad and smartphone on the mattress, then tilted his head at the ceiling. 

He closed his eyes, and heard laughter.

“Oh, sweet little bird,” the Empty cackled, “I do feel sorry for you.”

Castiel lowered his head and opened his eyes. It was there, in Duma’s form, a smirk taking up its entire face.

“Feeling the sting of rejection,” the Empty said amusedly, “must hurt something awful.”

“Take me,” Castiel said simply.

The Empty laughed, throwing back Duma’s head. “Goodness. If I knew four little words would have you running to me, I wouldn’t have bothered with the speech.”

Castiel realized it all at once, and his breath hitched. “This is what you wanted.”

“Oh, yes.” The Empty’s smile cut sharper than a blade ever would. “I did want you to suffer, but that whole happiness spiel?” Duma shrugged. “I couldn’t care less how you were reaped. I just want what is owed to me, and that,” she purred, “is you, Castiel.”

Castiel thought about what he would have done a day earlier. He would have fought vigorously, running once again from his tragic destiny.

Now, he was just tired.

“I am done,” Castiel said hollowly, “with Earth. Take me.”

The Empty stepped forward. Duma’s hand came to caress his cheek, and he did not pull away. “You are a broken baby bird, aren’t you?” Duma pouted, which was soon encompassed by a smirk that could devour souls. “I will grant you what you wish.”

The Big Empty dug its nails into his cheek, and he was yanked into a portal, soon surrounded by nothingness.

Castiel was laid on the cold ground, and he fell asleep.

Forever.

————

II. Life

 

“You’re dead to me,” Dean said.

Castiel recognized the sentence for what it was: a spur-of-the-moment expression of Dean’s temper.

He felt sad it had come to this, though. Castiel knows that what he did was right.

Besides, he did not know the full extent of what had happened to Jack. Castiel wasn’t always at the bunker. He wasn’t always responsible for Jack. They were all to blame, in some shape or form.

Castiel put stock in his worth. It took a lot of pain and soul-searching, but he got there.

He knew for a fact that he would never be ‘dead’ to the Winchesters.

That didn’t stop the barrage of words from hitting him hard in the heart, though.

Castiel took it as a sobering reminder that he and Dean would never work. But that was okay.

Really. It was okay.

Castiel knew himself, and he knew Dean. Their opposite forces were equally intense, always butting up against each other and neither of them ever wavering, or weakening.

So when Dean said “you’re dead to me,” Castiel merely remained silent and waited for Dean to simmer down.

It wasn’t until much later, when Castiel stayed through it all despite his words, that Dean apologized.

“Look Cas,” Dean said, “I say things because...I say stupid things when I’m angry. I...Cas, I need you to be here.” He ducked his head down to break eye contact. “I need you here. Thank you for staying. I’m sorry for being a dick.”

Castiel decided not to let his soaring heart fly. Doing so would be dangerous.

Instead, Castiel said, “I understand.”

Dean’s gaze shyly met his.

“I won’t leave unless I have to,” Castiel promised.

Castiel knew he would have to, but Dean didn’t need to know that.

The words seemed to calm Dean, and he said, “let’s hug it out.”

Before Castiel knew it, Dean had his hands on Castiel’s shoulderblades. He was pulled in close, and Castiel smelled the faintness of Dean’s cologne.

This was as close as he could ever get.

So, Castiel banished “you’re dead to me” from his mind, and hugged Dean back.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
